The heavy roof of summer leaves overhead blocked out most of the sun and covered the forest in a deep shade. Uther, Jaina, and Arthas all remained silent, tense—each on edge, watching out for any sign of undead. Uther, who was riding a bit ahead of the other two, pulled the reigns of his mount and stopped.
"There's a cottage yon," he said, pointing toward a cozy looking home some distance into the woods. Jaina and Arthas came up behind him. "We should check on them."
Arthas nodded.
"And if they're plagued?" Jaina asked.
"We kill them." Arthas said quickly.
Uther looked back at his pupil, and Jaina detected some sort of wariness, sadness perhaps, in his gaze.
"Well, nothing to do but go see." Uther said, jerking on his reigns again.
The trio approached the cottage—really nothing more than a small stone home, with a slightly overgrown garden to the side. Nothing seemed to stir—a solitary bird chirping somewhere in the trees above was all they heard.
Arthas slowed his steed into a trot, circling the perimeter of the house. He stopped by the garden, looking at his two comrades.
"I don't think anyone's home," he said.
Uther strode up, peering in one of the windows. "Aye, it looks empty. For the best, I'd wager. On to Brill, then."
Uther had just turned his horse away from the window when the glass panes shattered and a bony hand dug its talons into the paladin's shoulder with great force, dragging him from his horse, which whinnied and reared before backing away. Uther let out a great cry and came face to face with the ghoulish creature that had attacked him. It was a mass of blood and bone and exposed muscle, and was about to rend Uther's arm from the socket when it began to scream in agony. Ice was beginning to climb up what was left of its gnarled legs; in the distance, Jaina was chanting a spell to keep him that way. At the same time, Arthas charged the ghoul and swung his great hammer, smashing the side of its head. The creature convulsed and fell, bleeding from its head, as Jaina's ice spell shattered.
The creature lay still and broken.
Uther got up, breathing heavily and dusting himself off. Arthas and Jaina stood side-by-side, both looking down at the ghoul they had killed.
"Are you alright, Uther?" Jaina asked.
"I'm fine, my lady. Thank you." He strapped a mithril epaulet that had fallen from his shoulder in the attack back onto his armor. "Prince Arthas, you know not to get too close to that thing."
Arthas was crouching beside the corpse, not touching it, but studying it intently, lost in thought. "Do you think it lived in this cottage once?"
Jaina leaned down, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's best not to think about it, Arthas."
Arthas looked up at her, his handsome face suddenly ashen. He opened his mouth to speak, but seemingly thought better of it and climbed to his feet, armor clanking.
"We ride quickly to Brill," he said, mounting his steed that had returned to the clearing. "I want to get to the end of this. Lordaeron won't be destroyed, not under my watch."
The trio knew Brill to be a charming, pastoral town, surrounded by verdant hills and lush forests. As they reached the edge of the forest and came upon the hill above the city, however, they all stopped dead in their tracks.
"Light help us!" gasped Uther.
The city below them smelled of rot and death. They faced a mass grave, gray bodies piled high, festering. . .Jaina thought she actually saw some of themmoving just a bit, but kept that information to herself in the hope that it was only her overactive imagination.
"No. No, damn it." Arthas spurred his horse on faster down the hill. Uther and Jaina followed close behind, no one saying a word.
The town was not teeming with undead as Arthas feared it might be. They found two—both easily dispatched with deftness by Arthas and Uther. They were the only ones. Mostly, they found that house after house, all of the buildings they checked— were either empty or littered with corpses still in bed or chairs, even curled up on the floor. All had purple, bloated faces frozen in agony.
After checking the last house, Arthas left it and stepped onto the mossy cobblestone of the town square. He dropped his warhammer to the ground and pounded his fist into a nearby wooden post and let out a primal, wordless scream, long and miserable. Jaina and Uther watched on in silence. Jaina had taken a step closer to him, but Uther pulled her back, shaking his head.
The scream faded into a series of wracking sobs as Arthas leaned his head against the post, shoulders heaving.
"This isn't going to happen to Lordaeron! I can't—I protect these people, rule them, I---What is happening?"
"Arthas. . ." Uther began, but was cut off by Arthas striding to the middle of the town square, arms akimbo, posed for a challenge.
"What do you wantfrom me?" Arthas yelled, head turned upward toward the gloomy sky. "Face me, you cowards! Face me!"
The air fell silent for a moment before footsteps sounded on the cobblestone. A gaunt, crimson robed figure stepped out from behind a nearby house, hands behind his back. His aged, wan face carried an unnervingly pleasant smile.
"I know you!" Jaina cried suddenly. "Antonidas exiled you from the Kirin Tor because you were dabbling in necromancy. Kel'Thuzad." She snorted and shook her head. "I should have realized. . ."
"And how nice to seeyou again as well, Lady Proudmoore. I see the old dolt is sending you out to do his dirty work, then! And you—" here, the fallen warlock tilted his head toward Arthas. "You must be Terenas' whelp."
Arthas picked his hammer back up and both he and Uther stepped forward, prepared to confront the man.
"I am Prince Arthas Menethil." He said, his face contorting into a raged look. "Are you responsible for this?"
"More or less," Kel'Thuzad smiled again, shrugging. "But now, I believe we shall test your mettle a bit."
At those words, a small force of undead emerged from the shadows behind Kel'Thuzad. There were terrible, giant abominations like the one they had found in the forest, undead clinging to their last bits of skin, and even reanimated skeletons, all advancing toward the trio, wielding all manner of weapons.
Arthas gave a loud battle-shout and ran toward the army, his warhammer raised above his head.